Some days, there really is nothing to take a photo of. That is, there is plenty of material if one wanted to take pictures of fellow passengers on airplanes, but that doesn't convey the trying properties of the small girl who kicked the back of my seat all the way from London to Dallas. So this is, if nothing else, just symbolic of exhaustion: we were so tired by the time we hit Albuquerque that all we could do was collapse into the airport Sheraton, Alice still coughing, and both of us - well, not having had the best Christmas on record.
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